


Alone

by Thatonegothynerd



Series: Adventures of The Scarred [16]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 20:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19471966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatonegothynerd/pseuds/Thatonegothynerd
Summary: What happened to Avarice between fleeing her hometown and joining The Scarred.





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> tw: suicidal thoughts

Drowning. Avarice was drowning in self pity at the unfairness of it all. Her father was dead. She found out a few days ago when she listened in on the conversation of two men hanging her wanted poster. She was wanted and her status had finally caught up to her. It took them a little while, about six weeks, to finally realize they needed to spread their search out farther east, but now printed in black and white in the military section of the city her poster hung. It included a description of both her and her “crime”, a reward far larger than she would have imagined, and a carefully drawn picture of herself. It was remarkably close, despite the fact that someone would have had to dictate her description to the artist. She knew it was Vasily’s astute observations of her over the years that had yielded such an excellent result. 

But it wasn’t her status as a wanted woman that hung so heavily over her head, it was that the person she had wanted most to see in the world was dead, and it was her fault. Her fault her father died. He died to protect her, executed by the town that pursued her now because they viewed her as a traitor and by defending her he signed his death warrant. She wished he would have been a better liar. She wished he would have cursed her name and blamed her. She wished for anything but a world without Dryden Brigand in it. 

She had thought several times about ending it, about ending her. It would have been so easy. She already had a few daggers, “generously” sold to her for an IOU by The Clasp. She didn’t even want to think about what that would entail. And she would never have to deal with it if she had gone through with it. But she hadn’t.

There were a few things that stopped Avarice’s hand as she toyed with her dagger that evening. The first was the thought of the pain. She had never liked pain and had been terrible at dealing with it, despite how much she had been through in her life. Then there was the thought of some kind of justice for her father. She was the only person that knew of her father’s complete innocence on the lunacy that were his charges. If she were dead, his death would go unpunished. There was also Vasily to think about. She hated to think about him at all, but some part of her still loved him, despite everything he had done and longed to see him again, if only to ask him why. But ultimately, it was the thought of having to face her father in whatever life lay after this one that made her hand stop where it hovered above her wrist. The thought of the complete disappointment on his face at her actions made her regret ever thinking it. There was very little Avarice could do in life that would earn her father’s disappointment, but killing herself would have.

...

So she drowned herself in self pity as she made her way through Westruun for the next year. Self pity and guilt took up all of her time, everything else became secondary. She did whatever The Clasp asked of her, without any hesitation or consideration. She would spy of people from any station, whoever she was told to. Sometimes her job was to influence. She would whisper into someone’s ear behind the scenes or put an idea into their head that they never would have had before. Petty theft was also something she was tasked with on occasion, and sometimes she did it because it was a distraction for herself. How much could she get away with before she got caught? And how much could she talk herself out of if she was? 

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” the disembodied voice in the underground tavern said to her one day. She knew that it came from a halfling, a somewhat disgusting and pale one, named Fetch who served as the head of the spies for The Clasp in Westruun. 

“I’m better than most of the idiots you hire,” Avarice responded, fire in her words. 

“I know that,” he said without a change in tone, “but you haven’t proven that yet. You’re weak right now. You’re distracted.”

He was fishing for information. Avarice had been very careful since she had entered the city not to give up anything she thought could be used against her. 

“Is it because you’re wanted? Half the people in this room are, there’s nothing special about that in a city this size.”

He really didn’t know, did he? He had no clue what her life was like before this. Good. Her past was hers and hers alone. It was easy, she had discovered, to make someone’s past haunt them. She did not want to be a victim of her own practices. 

“What do you mean I haven’t proven myself? I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.”

“But you’re sloppy. You could be doing more. Much, much more if you only cared. You don’t care though, not right now.” Damn. Avarice hated how well he read her. She had worked so hard to establish her mask of cruel calm, but he saw right through it.

“What do you want me to do? Sleep with the Margrave?” She asked. Not that she would  _ do  _ that and Fetch knew it.

“I have a job for you, something different.”

Avarice patiently waited for him to go on.

“According to my sources, someone in is dappling into some powers that are… less than savory in Stilben. I want you to see if my sources are right, and if they are, put a stop to them.”

“You want me to kill someone?” Avarice asked, genuine surprise in her voice. She was a spy, not an assassin. She didn’t want to admit it, but she wasn’t sure she could kill anyone. 

“No,” he said, then quickly added, “I mean, if something were to happen to him… let’s just say the payment for the job would still stand.”

“So stop him, and whatever happens, I’ll get paid?” she asked. 

“Precisely.”

“Alright. When do I leave?”

“Tonight. I have it on good authority that he’s planning something in the next few days and I want you there for it. A wagon is waiting for you on the edge of town. He has your information on your contact in the city,” he said and though Avarice couldn’t see him, she could hear the smile in his voice, smug that she had accepted. 

“Fine. Whatever,” was her only response, but on the inside, Avarice was nervous. She hadn’t left the city since she had arrived a year ago and the thought of heading east filled her with dread. Drynna was far from Stilben, she wouldn’t be near there, yet the memory of her last wagon journey preyed on her as she made her way outside. Stilben would be different, she told herself. It wouldn’t be like that last night in Drynna. This time there would be no pretty, evil men in power, no city turned against her, and no murders to be blamed for. But there would also be no protective, loving fathers or kind red-eyed strangers to save her if things went wrong. This time she would be on her own. 

As the small supply wagon made its way slowly out of the glow of Westruun, Avarice looked back on it, feeling much different than she had about it just a year ago. Then the city had felt like safety, a refuge from her past life. Now it was another place to run from. From The Clasp and her wanted posters that hung on the walls. From the pity and guilt that clung to her insides. Maybe, just maybe, she thought to herself as she looked to the darkness ahead, out there was a place where she didn’t have to run. A life to run to, and not away from. 


End file.
